Tuesday, February 14, 2006

In The Spirit Of The Day...

The night that I told Mr. Scoop that I wanted to be with him I had recovered just enough from a sake blackout to be lucid. Barely. And yet not be sober enough to give a shit about fear of rejection. As an added bonus, I had also stopped trying to punch his best friend in the face. It was an auspicous evening for all concerned.

The night we finally got the balls to spend the night together (but behave ourselves! Oh no, there will be no having of the sex!), we killed a case and a half of Sam Adams and half a bottle of Jameson's and watched "Akira". On a note that may or may not have been related, later, by 6 AM, in a nearby Dunkin' Donuts I would hallucinate fairly vivid security cameras that I was sure were from the government. Watching me. Nothing says whirlwind romance like tip toeing up to the edge of a psychotic break and waving at the dark, gaping maw.

I'm cute when I'm psychotic. Trust me. I said TRUST me.

But, more than four years later, a whirlwind romance it has been and continues to be.